Opinion : Questions for Donald Trump to consider on his wife’s 40th birthday

I am not, at all, a fan of Donald Trump. I think the only “Apprentice” show should feature people who can teach Mr. Trump how to run a casino without making it go bankrupt – twice.

But Mr. T and I have one thing in common: We both have had a wife who celebrated her 40th birthday.  Today, April 26, 2010, is the 40th birthday of Melania Trump, who is called—by those who make such labels – a super model

I wonder what a 60-something husband of a 40-year-old model does on the birthday that is most often associated with losing one’s youth.

As I look back on that occasion in my house, I have some idea of the questions that may be floating around under that infamous hair.

Good husbands all know

That a man sure had better

When it comes to a wife’s birthday

Not become a forgetter.

As Shakespeare declared

There’s no place in this world

Or even the next

Where such fury is hurled

As that which is flung

By a woman who’s scorned

By a guy not recognizing

The day his gal was born

I’ve been in that place

Once (well, more that) I forgot

And I quickly began

To regret it a lot

So I wrote me a note

On a bright yellow square

To make sure that this year

I’d remain well aware

Of the day that it was

And of the day coming near

When it was time to tell her

“Happy Birthday, my dear”

But alas, how it goes

When a man tries his best

But winds up not doing

Something she will bless

This year, she decided

To do what I’d done before:

To look at the calendar

And simply ignore

The date of her birth

And pretend that this year

It just wasn’t worth

Any kind of great cheer

You see, it is fine

If a year ends in “nine”

Because women that age

Don’t seem to mind

But when the 9 turns to zero

Something seems to snap

Like a stretched rubber band

Or a sharp metal trap.

She’s just a day older

(Although I sure can’t tell)

But to add a new zero

Gals don’t take that so well

“Just forget, it she said,”

(Like I too often do)

“And wait for a year

That ends in 1, or a 2”

A decade has passed

Since her age ended in ‘O”

And now, 10 years later,

It seems more like “woe”

So what shall I do

Tell me, what do I say

To a gal who forgets

Her very own day?

Do I just try to pretend

That I really forgot

And failed to remember

That trouble that brought?

Or do I get roses

Of bright, fiery red

To remind her that her age

Is still a long way from dead?

I can’t say that I know

Which option to choose

But with my klutzy bad luck

I would probably lose

So guys, tell me if

There is a solution

To this 10-year cycle

Of birthday pollution

Is there a way to safely

Say ‘Happy Birthday’

To a gal who is thinking

Of only her age?

Or should I just get on a boat

And sail into the sun

And come back in a year,

When her age ends in “1”?